I waited nervously until the middle of the night to hide it. I lay awake listening to the wind in the Scotch pines on the ridge above the house. Jane wasn’t worried—her relaxed, gentle snore began almost as soon as I put out the light.

When the luminous dial of Mummy’s little Bakelite alarm clock showed it was after midnight, I climbed out over the foot of the bed. It was freezing. I didn’t put on my dressing gown or slippers, though. Cold would keep me alert, and I still had enough of the Jamaica bush in me to feel more confident in bare feet.

“Louisa?” Jane whispered.

I’d woken her getting out of bed.

“I’ll only be five minutes!”

I felt my way across the room and through the door, and padded down the passage. My jumping stomach made me incredibly sneaky.

I switched on the light in the loo that Jane and I shared with Ellen and Phyllis, and closed the door. Then I crept on down the passage. If anyone heard me and saw the light around the edges of the door, she would think I was using the toilet.

The cold stairs felt good against my soles. I kept to one side, holding the banister, feeling the smooth wooden treads beneath my feet at the edge of the woven coconut matting. By the time I reached the bottom, my heart was hammering as it had never done when the bombs were falling around me in the Blitz.

No one’s on guard, I told myself. Nobody’s down there.

There wasn’t any light. I didn’t want to switch one on. I felt my way across the cold flagstones, found the poker, and stirred up last night’s fire. Old embers glowed red beneath the banked ash, and gave me the little bit of light I needed.

I climbed up to sit on the bar to reach the ceiling instead of standing on a chair. Ellen had told me where to put my penny.

Then, quiet as could be, I crossed the room and slipped the message into the record that I’d left on top of the pile so I wouldn’t have to hunt for it in the dark.

Afterward, I crept upstairs, opened the door to the loo, and pulled the chain to flush. Then I switched out the light and went back to Room Number Five.

Jane was asleep again—her magical power, able to sleep under any circumstances. There wasn’t a stutter in her even, purring snore as I climbed into bed beside her.

Of course I had to do it all again a few days later.